Page 22

“I have never lied to you, despite what you think. I never will.”

I hummed, uncertain if I could even recall if she spoke true, but darkness was crafted at her hand. She lost control and sought it back.

“I will vow. Soul to soul.” The queenie stepped closer, palm outstretched.

“What will you vow?”

“What do you desire?”

Simple. “My melder’s soul to remain bright.”

“You wish the girl to live.”

I dipped my chin, so it faded in the shadows coiled around me.

“Then should you confide in me, I vow to do all I can to keep her alive, and she will not fall to Salur from my hand or word.”

No promises could be made of the hands of others, but…one could be stayed. “Soul to soul?”

The queenie nodded. “I break it, and my soul is yours to send to the molten hell if you wish.”

Soul vows were sealed by craft. The queenie, should she deceive me, would become a walking shell, for I would destroy the soul inside.

Such a vow was no small act.

I held out my darkened palm, pressing it to the top of the queenie’s. “Speak your words.”

She swallowed. “I vow to do all in my power to protect the melder—”

“Her name,” I said through the edges of my teeth. With two melders running amok, clarity would be needed.

The queenie swallowed. “I vow to do all in my power to protect Lyra of House Bien. Should I break such a vow or fail, I offer my soul as payment.”

Brilliant skeins of light coiled around our wrists and fingers and up the length of our arms before fading into each chest.

When the heat from the vow had settled, I looked to the Soul Render. “Thief kings use their melders to hunt for the Wanderer.”

“We already know this.”

“Perhaps, but you do not understand all the schemes and tricks behind the Thief King’s walls.”

She looked back at me. “Did Damir truly find powerful bones? Is the woman truly as formidable as foretold?”

“What you heard from the seer’s words long before is true, Soul Render. She is strong, she’s hunted, and if wars begin, no doubt lands will be destroyed.”

She blew out a long breath, and a bit of frosted air billowed from her painted lips. “Tell me what happened in Stonegate.”

Little by little, I retold tales of my melder’s gifts, her strength, her fears, and the rise of a dark melder.

By the end of it, the queenie paced in front of me. “Damir is dead. Fadey, gods, he’s alive and hunts the woman to meld her bones to him?”

“Because my melder can come here, where the souls speak.”

“So he thinks that by absorbing her craft, he will be able to see more clearly where the Wanderer’s scattered bones are hidden?”

I gave a slow dip of my chin. “My melder is strong. The dark one believes she is who he needs to unite the power in the bones of the first king.”

“Dammit. It is graver than I imagined.” She whirled on me. “Should he restore the Wanderer, Fadey would control all craft. We all will be forced to bow to him.”